


Pain Passes with the Night

by makeit_takeit



Series: Missing Scenes [5]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Friendship, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeit_takeit/pseuds/makeit_takeit
Summary: Mid-"Crossroads". After the battle for the Dike in Schoonderlogt.He closes his eyes and hopes Nix can’t feel the heat creeping down his neck, can’t hear his heart pounding or the rush of his blood in his veins. His jaw clenches and his eyes feel too big, a strange sensation of pressure behind them that doesn’t subside until he feels the warmth of Nix’s sigh along his shoulders, feels the bed shift and the cold drift into the space that Nix leaves behind when he goes.





	Pain Passes with the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on 4/14/2009.

Dick lays in the musty bed, curtains drawn, feeling like he’s on a sleeper train. Not that he's in a position to complain. A bed is a bed, and anything that's not a hole in the ground passes for luxury these days. Still. _For all the chance of me sleeping tonight_ , he thinks,  _I might as well be out on patrol._

The face of that Kraut soldier – the face of a boy, could’ve been one of their boys, just as easily – appears behind his eyelids whenever he closes them, so he’s resigned himself to staring at the ceiling. It’s the first time he’s ever been that close, seen the blood spill when the bullet hit, and when Nix squatted beside him after it was all over, asked If he was okay, he couldn’t say yes. He couldn’t say anything, all he could do was walk away.

Lew comes bumbling in, noisy boots clumsily stumping up the stairs, and Dick wonders what time it is. He can tell by the shuffling of Nixon’s feet, the unsteady gait, that he’s plenty drunk. Boots thunk across the floor as they’re kicked off, the heavy thwack of a jacket across a chair, buttons being popped open and a fly unzipped, and suddenly moonlight shines in on Dick as the curtains to his stall are pulled back.

Lew crawls right in, collapses with a groan.

_Wrong bunk, Nix. You’re one over._

_Oh. Right._

Nix doesn’t move, so Dick doesn’t either. He lays still, feeling the weight of Nix beside him, the heat, smelling the whiskey and sweat against the dusty bedclothes. Nix is quiet and still for long enough that Dick considers whether he might have passed out already; thinks about crawling over him and into the other bunk for the night. But he doesn’t. He just turns, puts his back up against Nix’s shoulder, and figures that’s good enough. His eyes are still open, just fixed on the wall instead of the ceiling. _Same difference,_ he thinks, and then he feels the bed shift.

Behind him, Nix turns, too. Toward him, and raises up on an elbow, peering down at Dick in the dark.

_So you’re not okay._

_Never said I was._

_Thought by now, maybe._

Dick remains, still and silent, unblinking. He can feel the weight of Nix’s eyes on him, then the weight of a hand on his arm, a forehead leaned against his shoulder, curls prickling against his neck and hot breath along his back. He feels Nix slide closer, fitting against him.

_I never had to look a man in the eye before, and kill him._

_Yeah. Easier when you’re just aiming in a general direction, hm?_

_And you're not sure it was your bullet that got him._

_Right. Not that I’d know._

_Count your blessings, Lew._

_You gonna be able to sleep?_

_Maybe tomorrow night._

_Anything I can do?_

And that’s not a question Dick is prepared to answer, not here, not this night, with that boy’s face so fresh in his mind and the dust on his pillow. So he doesn’t. He closes his eyes and hopes Nix can’t feel the heat creeping down his neck, can’t hear his heart pounding or the rush of his blood in his veins. His jaw clenches and his eyes feel too big, a strange sensation of pressure behind them that doesn’t subside until he feels the warmth of Nix’s sigh along his shoulders, feels the bed shift and the cold drift into the space that Nix leaves behind when he goes.

In a few minutes, Nix is snoring on the other side of the stall wall, and Dick feels better, comforted by the sound. The pain passes with the night, marching away slow and steady like time does, and by first light Dick is up, red-eyed, but the lump in his throat, the pounding in his head has waned. 

His orderly brings his coffee, and a summons from HQ. Dick reads it, and re-reads it, opens the window and stares out, and steels himself.

_Lew. Wake up, they want us back at Regiment._

Not a sound, but that’s par for the course. He pulls back the curtains on Nixon’s bunk.

_C’mon Nix get up, let’s go. Come on, something’s up - Strayer’s orders._

_Uhhhkay g'head I’ll be righ...down._

_Let’s go, c’mon, you got ten minutes._

_Go ‘way._

_Come on, come on – let’s go!_

_Nuhh. Lemme alone._

_Oookay._

He picks up a pitcher from the shelf over the bed and tosses it right into Nix’s face. The reaction is immediate – better than he’d hoped for.

_Uhhh. Goddammit. Ah! That’s my own piss, for chrissakes!_

Lew tosses a pillow out at Dick, dust billowing, scrambling across the bed to give him a good shove. Dick just laughs, defending himself against the attack with a shove back at Nix. It's the first time he's laughed in awhile; it feels good.

In the Jeep, Nix is on a tear: If they’d only taken Antwerp – woulda, coulda, shoulda. Pretty lively for a man who 10 minutes ago was doing a convincing impression of a corpse.

Dick’s brain is sluggish on no sleep. He’s thinking of last night, of Lew’s body up against his, and the question he didn’t answer. The Jeep jerks to a stop and Nixon’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

_Now if I can just get Ike on the phone. Are you listening to me?_

_Hanging on every word._

Dick smirks, eyes crinkling, and turns on his heel to head into HQ.


End file.
